Esme's Story
by mrs. huntzberger
Summary: My version of what might have happened the first time Esme and Carlisle met. Set in the hospital after she has broken her leg.


**A.N.** This is a story that I have been working on for a long time. In August, I was over on Twilight Lexicon for the first time and I came across Stephenie Meyer's description of Esme's story. Apparently, some people wondered how Carlisle and Esme could have fallen in love so quickly and easily. I for one never wondered that, probably because I just love Carlisle and can't imagine why anyone else wouldn't. :D The point is, that I thought their backstory was terribly romantic and seriously under-developed. So, this is my version of what might have happened. Happy reading!

White. Everything around her – the ceiling, the walls, the floor, the sheets – it was all white. She had woken with a start, immediately disoriented by unfamiliar surroundings. Her head felt like it was stuffed with cotton and she was tired, so tired. But where was she, exactly? And why was she all alone in this bright, sterile room? Feeling slightly panicked, she closed her eyes and breathed deeply through her nose. Suddenly, it all came flooding back to her: the old walnut tree on the edge of her family's property, the sickening sound of her bone breaking as she hit the ground, the blinding pain...and a face, more beautiful than any she had ever seen.

Realizing that she must be in the hospital, Esme cautiously opened her eyes. It was then that she noticed her leg, suspended in the air in front of her. It too was white, covered in Plaster of Paris. The dressings were bulky and she groaned at the sight of them. Her mother would not be pleased. Thankfully, the pain seemed to have subsided for the moment.

Voices coming from the hall caught her attention. She recognized the first voice easily. Her mother was agitated, oscillating between worry and frustration. Someone – a man who spoke in deep, musical tones – was trying to soothe her. His voice was familiar somehow, but Esme couldn't place it.

"I understand that you are upset ma'am, but–"

"Upset? Of course I am upset. We are in a hospital, Dr. Cullen. Need I remind you that my daughter's leg is broken?"

"No, Mrs. Platt. And I assure you, your daughter will make a full recovery."

"I have no doubt that she will, doctor. But what is she to do in the interim? That hulking mass on her leg will hardly make it possible for her to move, let alone dance. And here we are, right in the middle of the busiest social season of the year."

Esme sighed. Of course her mother was worried about her social calendar. The pain was merely an inconvenience. She did not normally believe in regrets, but she cursed herself now for being so careless. She would surely be confined to bed rest, and if that wasn't bad enough, she would also be forced to endure her mother's constant reminders about how she was failing to fulfil her 'obligations.' She knew she wasn't always the prim and proper young lady her mother hoped she would be, but she was always a dutiful daughter – and yet, it was never enough.

Lost in thought, Esme didn't notice when the voices in the hallway stopped and someone entered her room. It was only when he cleared his throat that she looked up, startled, and had to stifle a gasp. There, at the foot of her bed, stood the man of her dreams.

He was devastatingly, inhumanely beautiful, his wide, cat-like eyes the colour of molten gold. They seemed to shimmer as he searched her face and she was suddenly glad she was already lying down. She noticed that he looked tired – his skin was unnaturally pale, smooth and white like porcelain, and there were deep purple shadows beneath his eyes – but that only seemed to enhance his beauty, his strength and devotion evident on his face. Mesmerized by his perfection, she couldn't help but stare. Her eyes swept over his body, taking in his broad shoulders, his impressive height, his golden hair, before landing on his mouth. His lips were of the palest pink; they looked soft and inviting and she surprised herself by wondering what they would feel like pressed against her own. As she watched, his lips parted, revealing a set of brilliant, white teeth, and she realized that he must be speaking to her. Flushing, she forced herself to meet his gaze.

"Esme?" he asked softly.

Her name fell from his lips as though he'd said it a thousand times before and it surprised her. Dr. Hammond had known her all her life and he still called her 'Miss Platt.' It pleased her to hear this handsome stranger speak her Christian name.

"Yes?"

"My name is Dr. Cullen."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance," she said, holding out a dainty hand.

He smiled, amused by her flawless manners, and took her hand. His grip was firm but gentle, his skin cold and smooth. It was a polite gesture, one she'd performed on numerous occasions, but with him it felt...intimate. The second their skin touched, the easy smile slid from his lips. For one brief, intense moment they stared at each other, something unspoken passing between them as his smouldering gaze held hers. And then it was over. Looking away, he released her hand and she dropped it in her lap quickly to keep herself from reaching out to him.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, picking up her chart. His professional demeanour, though kind, seemed cold after what had just happened.

She looked at her hands, embarrassed. "Tired. And a bit sore."

He moved down the bed. "And your leg?"

"It hurts, but the pain is bearable." In truth, now that she was fully awake, it was throbbing.

He glanced up at her and smiled again. He seemed almost proud. The thought warmed her but she continued to look away.

"Dr. Cullen, may I ask you a question?"

"Of course."

"What is your given name?"

His eyebrows pulled together slightly; he looked puzzled but answered, "Carlisle."

"_Carlisle,_" she murmured.

In her mind she could see each letter, carefully written in delicate script. It was a beautiful name, an angel's name. She looked up at him and blushed. He was gazing at her intently and there was something in his eyes she didn't understand.

He had answered her without question, but she hurried to explain herself. "I only ask," she began, trying to sound stern to cover her embarrassment, "because you called me Esme. I thought it only fair that I should know your name as well."

He chuckled and then his expression turned serious. "Of course, Miss Platt. I apologize. It was improper of me to be so informal." His tone was very formal now, but there was a mocking glint in his eyes.

"You are right," she said. "But I accept your apology."

For a moment they stared straight-faced and serious, each waiting for the other to break form. Only seconds passed before Esme dissolved into giggles.

"I didn't mind," she said. "Platt isn't a very pretty name anyway."

He smiled broadly. "Esme, on the other hand, is a very pretty name."

She began to thank him, when her mother entered the room. "Good, you're awake! I've just come to say goodbye. Your father is readying the horses."

"Goodbye?" Esme asked, confused.

"Yes. The doctor," began her mother, casting an aggravated glance towards Carlisle's retreating form, "believes you should remain in the hospital overnight. He was very insistent. However, your father really must get back and I think it best that I accompany him. Someone has to spread the news that you're alright. The servants were beside themselves with worry; poor Matthew looked as though he might die of fright. He's the one who found you, you know – he was on his way to the barn and he heard you call out. Lucky for you he was, otherwise who knows what might have happened."

"Oh, mother!" Esme cried. "I'm so terribly sorry I worried everyone. Do tell them I'm sorry, and please thank Matthew for me."

"Of course," replied Mrs. Platt shortly.

Esme sniffed, wiping her eyes. "Thank you."

"I must say, it remains a mystery to me what you were doing up there. It is undignified for a young lady to be swinging around in the leaves like a monkey. I'd forbid you from doing it again, but we both know how much good that would do!" Her mother gave an exasperated sigh. "And now your leg is in that ghastly cast. What am I to tell Gilbert when he comes calling?"

_You can tell him to go to hell for all I care,_ thought Esme.

"Tell him whatever you please, mother."

"Really Esme, I just can't understand why you refuse to give that boy a chance. He comes from a good family. He's handsome, polite, well-educated..."

_He's also arrogant, boastful, mean-spirited..._

"You'd be lucky to have him," finished Mrs. Platt.

Esme had to resist the urge to snort. "And what about love? I don't want to marry a man simply because he has good connections. I want someone I can trust, someone kind and thoughtful and funny. Someone..." she trailed off, her gaze drifting towards the door. "Someone who makes my heart race."

"Heavens! Such fanciful notions. I can't imagine where you get them – too many novels, I'd wager."

Esme sighed, nodding vaguely. She was too tired and in too much pain to broach the subject with any conviction tonight. Besides, it wasn't as if she would ever be able to make her mother understand, no matter when or where she tried. Her mother had married her father for all the reasons she thought Esme should consider Gilbert: money, importance, family. Her parents got on well enough and they respected each other but there was no passion in their relationship. Instead, Rachel devoted herself to helping John rise. She planned parties and accepted invitations; she joined the most prestigious committees and ingratiated them with the right people. She was her husband's wife and social secretary, but not his friend or lover. They weren't unhappy, but Esme was bound and determined to have more. Suddenly, she could not wait for her mother to leave.

"Well, you mustn't keep father waiting. Goodnight mother." Esme tried to make her voice sound sweet and considerate but she feared some of her irritation crept in. Her mother, thankfully, did not seem to notice.

"You are absolutely right, dear. Goodnight." She gave Esme's hand a quick pat and departed without as much as a backwards glance.

_When I have children,_ thought Esme, _I will dote on them. I will love my family with every ounce of my being. Someday I will have not only a house but a home, and it will be filled with fun and laughter and affection._

Esme was smiling when Carlisle re-entered her room.

"Feeling better?" he asked.

"Yes, actually. Now that my mother is gone."

After a second, Esme realized what she had said and her eyes grew wide with horror. She clamped a hand over her mouth, blushing furiously.

Carlisle couldn't help but chuckle at her over-reaction. "She is a tad...abrasive," he admitted with a grin.

Esme exhaled, relieved that he didn't think her rude and unfeeling. She moved her hand so that it only half covered her mouth, her fingers resting on her cheek, and smiled up at him shyly. "Maybe just a tad."

Smiling and shaking his head slightly, he moved forward to examine her leg and they fell into a companionable silence. She watched, entranced, as his long, white hands moved swiftly and smoothly over her dressings. As she studied him, trying to commit every inch to memory, she noticed a strange disparity between his physical being and his demeanour. His lean, muscular body and chiselled jaw seemed to be carved of stone, and yet he was so gentle. His appearance was very refined and his masculinity, though clearly undeniable, was tempered with an elegance few men possessed. He was the most beautiful creature she had ever seen and she worried that he might disappear at any moment. Surely, someone so perfect couldn't be real. And yet, he must be, for she could not only see him, but feel him and hear him. He was speaking to her again and she forced herself to focus on what he was saying and not the way his mouth moved as he spoke.

"Your mother said you sustained your injuries falling out of a tree?"

His voice and expression were kind – she felt sure he wasn't mocking or judging her – but she was embarrassed nonetheless.

"Yes. It's just...the weather was so lovely today that I...Well, I just couldn't bear to stay inside. Imagine doing something so tedious as needlepoint when the sun is shining so brightly!" she exclaimed, her voice becoming increasingly animated as she spoke.

"But you see, my mother does not approve of fun. 'No man wants to marry a silly woman,' she says. She has devoted herself to finding me a suitable husband and insists that I devote myself to 'acquiring the skills most admired in a wife and mother.' I doubt very much that I'll ever meet her standards, but I know that I will be a loving and devoted wife. Perhaps that's why we disagree: she does not believe in marriages founded on love."

Esme stopped. Why was she telling him all of this? He was her doctor; he did not care about her fanciful notions.

"I...as...as I said, it was a lovely day and the fresh air was beckoning. So while my mother was arguing with Hattie, our cook, about the dinner menu, I snuck out." She paused again, biting her lip, and glanced at Carlisle. A small, approving smile played on his lips, encouraging her to continue.

"There is a beautiful, old walnut tree near the edge of my father's property. As a child, I used to pretend it was enchanted. I'd imagine faeries flitting among the leaves, wood nymphs dancing about the trunk. Sometimes, I thought I could almost hear their quiet, tinkling laughter in the wind."

"And now, as a woman, has your enchanted tree become nothing but bark and branches?" asked Carlisle.

"Oh no! It is much too magnificent for that," she sighed, a faraway look in her eyes. "In the evenings, I like to watch the sun set from our front porch. There have been times when I have looked out across the yard and my tree has appeared to be glowing, almost as if it were on fire. In those beautiful, terrifying moments, I can't help but feel as though it might be...a little bit magic." She paused, coming back to reality. "It's silly, I know."

"Not at all," he countered. His eyes were bright, the skin at the corners crinkling slightly as he smiled. "There are some things that simply...defy reason."

It seemed to Esme that he was hesitant to continue, but something about his tone made her think he had more to say. Only moments ago they had been discussing her accident. Now, they were speaking of magic, and his words seemed to hold another meaning entirely, one just for her. "Defy reason?" she prompted.

Carlisle nodded and walked over to the empty chair on the other side of her bed. Seated, he became very still, almost as though he really was carved of stone, and stared at her, considering. After a moment, he spoke. "I have made quite an extensive study of science and I have been a doctor for many years. In all that time, I have seen much that logic cannot explain: dying patients recovering overnight, new medicines discovered completely by accident. Perhaps it is simply luck. But sometimes...I think...it might be something else entirely. Something more. You spoke of faeries. Is it completely beyond the realm of possibility that mythical creatures might really exist?"

His expression was serious; his eyes almost pleading. Esme wasn't sure if she believed in faeries or any other mythical creature, but something about the way he spoke made her wonder...

"I suppose anything is possible," she whispered.

At her words, his smile reappeared – it was like the sun breaking through the clouds. Carlisle chuckled. "Forgive me. A man of medicine arguing the existence of faeries–" He shook his head. "You must think me absurd."

"Perhaps," she replied. "Or perhaps you are something else entirely."

"Something more?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow.

Esme blushed. "Perhaps."

--------

After that, conversation flowed freely and easily between them. Esme spoke more about her family and her hopes for the future; Carlisle briefly outlined his time in Italy. When she worried that she was keeping him from his other patients, he explained that as it was a small hospital for a small town, there were only two other patients, both of whom were already asleep. Besides, they had the nurse to attend to them.

It amazed her that he should be so eager to continue talking to her; after all, she was just a regular girl. But he seemed genuinely interested in her, and she just glad to be in his presence. She continued to marvel at his beauty, but as time wore on, she found that it was his mind that entranced her. He had seen and done so much, the wisdom he possessed was that of a much older man, and yet he looked so young.

Finally, she had to ask. "Dr. Cullen, may I ask, how old are you?"

"Thirty three."

Esme was surprised. "Really? I would have guessed younger. Although..."

"Although?"

"It's just, you don't look more than 25, but in some ways you seem much older." He was such a mystery to her, one she wanted nothing more than to solve.

"Is that so?"

The gleam in his eyes as he spoke suggested she might not be wrong. But how could that be? She didn't know what to say, so she simply nodded.

--------

It was well after midnight when Carlisle finally bid Esme goodnight. Despite her best efforts, her eyelids had begun to droop and he had insisted that she get some rest. She tried to protest, to tell him that was wasn't tired, but her uncontrollable yawning had given her away. And so, they parted for the night. She was worried that she wouldn't see him again as she was to be released that evening, but he assured her that he would be back at the hospital in time to say goodbye.

--------

Esme slept through most of the morning and spent the afternoon bored and restless. She was anxious to see Carlisle again, to make sure she hadn't somehow dreamed the time they had spent together. As she sat looking out the door to her room, across the hall at the window where she could see the sun sinking below the trees, her parents arrived and she began to worry that she might be forced to leave before he arrived.

Moments later, however, he strode into her room. He was just as beautiful as she remembered, perhaps more so, and his eyes held the same kindness and sincerity as they had the night before. Unfortunately, before she could say hello, her mother accosted him, demanding to know when they might finally be able to take her home. He assured her that it wouldn't be much longer and suggested she go ask the nurse about a wheelchair while he gave Esme her final examination.

When they were alone, he turned to her and smiled. "Hello, Esme."

She couldn't help but grin in return. "Good evening, Dr. Cullen."

"How are you feeling?"

"Better. Not as tired, though my leg still hurts."

"Yes, well I'm afraid that might be the case for a while longer. It was a severe break. But I promise, in a few weeks, when the cast comes off, your leg will be as good as new."

"I'm sure it will."

She felt nervous all of a sudden and looked awkwardly down at her hands while he examined her dressings. When he was finished, she forced herself to look up at him and found him staring at her, that same intent look on his face as when she had asked his name.

They became frozen, locked in each other's gaze. In that moment, Esme wished that things could be different, that he wasn't her doctor and she wasn't his patient. She also wished that she could know what he was thinking, and most of all, she wished she could somehow tell him what she was feeling.

Suddenly, Carlisle took a long step forward. Standing now near her head, he hesitated and looked over his shoulder to where the door stood half open. The hall, for the moment, was empty. Slowly, he turned towards her, leaning in until their faces were inches apart. Esme couldn't move, couldn't blink. She wondered if he was going to kiss her, hoped that he would. Instead, he sighed softly, his sweet breath fanning her face, and pressed his cold lips to her forehead.

The smile he gave her as he pulled away didn't meet his eyes. "Take care of yourself, Miss Platt."

She nodded and tried to return his smile, but couldn't. The sadness in his eyes was breaking her heart and she wanted nothing more than to hold him. A single tear slid down her cheek as she watched him walk out her door and out of her life. "Goodbye, Carlisle."

**A.N.** So, there you have it. I'm pretty happy with how the story turned out but I can't wait to hear what other people think. If you have a moment, please review!


End file.
